


Should others come between us

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Songs of the New World [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blow Jobs, Lord/Vassal Dynamics, M/M, Your OTP isn't monogamous, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A soldier falls in love with his prince. Unfortunately, his prince is in love with a certain kinslaying, Dispossessed cousin. Tough break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should others come between us

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. This is important, so I’m going to put my notes at the beginning, for once. Let's talk Gelmir: I was vaguely thinking, right, yeah, he could be the Gelmir mentioned in the _Silmarillion_ , sure, but then I realized that Gelmir (he of no legs and arms and the start of the Nirnaeth) was an elf of Nargothrond, not Hithlum, and therefore not one of Fingon’s men. Sooo this could go two ways: Taken one way, this is just some common or garden elf of the first age and I recycled his name because if Tolkien can do it, SO CAN I. Because I am BALLS at coming up with Elf names. Alternatively, this is an AU where Gelmir brother of Gwindor was originally in Hithlum instead of Nargothrond. I’ve kind of tweaked it to make that work within the canon. (It also makes it a lot more tragic, if that’s your bag.)
> 
> 0.5 [EDIT BECAUSE I TOTALLY FUCKED THE TIMELINE]: ...Yeah, I don't think I can make this canon Gelmir compliant if I want to have Fingon as High King in here, since canon Gelmir was taken captive in the Dagor Bragollach. ARGH. Ok, forget everything I said.
> 
> 1\. Equally important: I wrote this because I find it hard to believe that Maedhros and Fingon went all those long years, more often separated than not, without sleeping with – or seeking comfort with – other people. I think there is absolutely nothing wrong with having a soul mate, love of your life, etc etc, who, due to circumstances beyond your control, can’t be physically with you most of the time. But I think forced chastity under those circumstances certainly wouldn’t work for everyone, and shouldn't be assumed. So my interpretation is that one or both of them likely took other lovers during those long separations, and that this had zero reflection on how much they loved each other. Fidelity is not measured simply by not having sex with other people. 
> 
> 2\. I'm rather tentative about this story, so any concrit greatly welcome!
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gelmir had loved the High King from the first time he laid eyes on him.

Of course, he hadn't been the High King then.

And of course, they all loved him – would have fought for him, died for him, killed for him, and did. From the time when he was just a prince of one of the high houses, he was beloved.

Gelmir had loved him since the Ice, when he was still young and small and terrified, and he’d looked up from the endless grey and white to see a figure, wrapped in furs like the rest of them, with bright blue eyes and a warm smile. And he was _singing_. It seemed so impossible, in this desolation, that anyone could sing. But Prince Findekáno, their lord’s eldest son, was singing, his voice clear and strong. Even though all knew the devastation he had suffered – they had all suffered – his back remained straight, and those blue eyes fixed ever on the horizon, and his song stayed in Gelmir’s mind, and he loved his prince devotedly from that time on.

- 

In the new lands, it surprised no one that their prince became renowned in song and story for his valiant acts. And if most privately thought that his bravery was rather wasted on a son of Fëanor, nor was anyone very surprised. Everyone knew that Maedhros Fëanorion had a particular claim over their prince’s heart.

Gelmir worked his way through the ranks, striving ever harder to prove his worth to his prince, and in an incident where he ended up, quite by accident, saving Fingon’s life, he was appointed to his personal guard.

Thereafter, he rejoiced, for he was often at Fingon’s side, and Fingon frequently chose him as his sole company in his wanderings across the land. For even as a son of the High King, and a leader of men, he could not change the restless urges of his heart, and was often out in the mountains or the plains with horse and bow, exploring the new lands of Middle Earth.

And when fortune favored him, Gelmir was at his side.

- 

It was on such a journey that they came to the clear mountain pool.

At the sight, Fingon let out a most un-princely whoop of delight.

“Praise the Valar,” he said, swinging himself from the saddle. “I am filthy as an orc and twice as smelly. I would trade a silmaril for a bath.”

“Then it is fortunate,” said Gelmir, smiling at his prince’s evident pleasure, “that that will not be necessary.”

“A good thing, too, as I am rather short of silmarils at the moment.”

As Gelmir set up camp, Fingon picketed their horses and then made for the water’s edge. Stripping down, he plunged into the icy water, submerging completely and shaking his long braids like a wet lion as he resurfaced.

Gelmir ducked his head and turned away, averting his eyes, but a splash of cold water made him jump.

“No need to pretend modesty,” Fingon called, merrily. “You must be as desperate for a bath as I.”

“It is fine, my lord, I can – ”

“Don’t be like that,” said Fingon, grinning at him. “What is a little nudity to the states in which you’ve seen me? Haven’t you dragged me half dead through a swamp, changed the bandages on my rotting wounds, and sat with me through the delusions of fever?”

“Aye, sire, I have,” said Gelmir, giving in and starting to pull off his armor with no small relief to be free of it. “You told me there were yellow toads dropping from the ceiling, waving swords.”

Fingon shuddered. “Manwë, I’d forgotten the toads. Worse than the infected dagger wound, those were.”

Gelmir slipped into the cold water, shivering slightly, but aching to get the dirt from his skin. He darted a glance at Fingon who had sank back in the water and was floating blissfully on his back. Despite the water’s chill, Gelmir flushed.

Yes, he had carried Fingon, raving from infection, through a swamp; changed his bandages in the close confines of a single tent; wrapped his naked body in blankets to help sweat off the fever. But fretting over his prince’s wounded, filthy body was a far cry from where he was now: mere feet from Fingon, now naked and hale and whole, water droplets glistening on his light brown skin.

 _Eru save me,_ he thought, desperately, as his body responded to the sight. _Merciful Manwë, preserve me from my desires…_

But the Valar were clearly busy elsewhere, as Fingon took that moment to say, “Damn, I left the soap in my pack. Can you grab it?”

Gelmir inched towards the shallows, helplessly trying to angle his body away from Fingon so as not to reveal his arousal. He fumbled quickly in the packs for soap and returned to the water as quickly as he could, but not quick enough. Fingon, looking up in thanks, caught sight of him before he plunged into deeper water, and his eyes widened slightly.

“Oh – ”

 _Let me drown now,_ thought Gelmir, miserably, submerging to his chin in the cold water. _Let some water beast take me, let dragons descend, anything…_

A light touch on his shoulder had him starting up, alarmed. Fingon was standing over him, watching him with kind eyes. “Do not be embarrassed,” he said. “It happens to us all.”

Gelmir’s cheeks burned, and stared down into the water. “I am sorry, my lord,” he whispered. “I don’t – You – ”

Gentle fingers took his chin and tilted his face upwards. “What is it, Gelmir?”

Gelmir met those brilliant blue eyes, and realized he was drowning after all. “You affect me very strongly,” he found himself saying.

“Do I?” Fingon’s voice was curious, but he did not pull his hand away.

“Yes. You are – I have always noticed – ” He broke off, mortified at what he’d revealed, and turned away. But rather than the sounds of Fingon moving away that he’d expected, he felt a slick body press against him from behind, and a strong arm wrap around his waist.

“That is nothing to be ashamed of,” said Fingon, low and warm into his ear.

Gelmir shuddered. Was this truly happening? And then Fingon slid a hand down his chest to his belly, and lower, and took him in hand.

“Ah! You do not have to – My prince – ”

“Fingon,” Fingon corrected him gently, his breath warm on Gelmir’s ear. “No, I do not have to. But I would like to, if you want this.”

 _Say no,_ said the part of Gelmir’s mind that reminded him this was his prince, that he was nothing but a common soldier, that such things did not happen to people like him. But every other part of him overruled it and Gelmir said, “Yes.” And, “ _Please_.”

Before long he was panting and crying out under his prince’s hands, and his head was dropping back on Fingon’s shoulder, and when Fingon pressed a kiss to his throat, he knew it was all over.

He felt almost dizzy with the rush of pleasure, and when he pulled himself together he realized that he was slumped against Fingon, whose arms were holding him upright.

Fingon was smiling faintly. “That,” he said quietly, “was a pleasure to watch.”

He released Gelmir and made to move away, but Gelmir said, “Wait.”

He sank to his knees in the shallow water. Reaching out, he laid his hands on Fingon’s hips, feeling his prince shudder lightly under his touch, and took him into his mouth.

The sound Fingon made in the back of his throat as his hands came down to clutch Gelmir’s shoulders was almost enough to stir him to arousal again.

-

So it was, for many years. On long trips afield, and even some rare nights in the castle, Gelmir would share Fingon’s bed.

Fingon was a kind and loyal friend, and a generous lover. But on one of the first nights that he took Gelmir to bed in his rooms in Barad Eithel, he’d paused, looking seriously at Gelmir.

“I care for you you very much, Gelmir, and have great respect for you as a soldier,” he said, his hand light on Gelmir’s shoulder. “I trust you with my life, and I value your friendship. But you must know – what we have here can never be an affair of the heart. Not for me.” He smiled, and there was a touch of sadness in his expression. “My heart belongs to another. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do,” said Gelmir, not meeting his eyes.

“Knowing this,” said Fingon, “do you still wish to come to my bed? I do not wish to deceive you, or lead you on. But I do very much enjoy the pleasure of your company. Will this be enough for you?”

And though he knew that it would break his heart, in the end, Gelmir lied and said, “Yes. It will be enough.” And Fingon drew him down to the bed.

-

He lay naked beside Fingon and traced the scars on his body with a boldness he never knew he possessed, and kissed the traces of frostbite, the battle scars, the more recent wound along his side that Gelmir himself had stitched closed.

Fingon hummed and lay back, relaxed under Gelmir’s touch, and Gelmir remembered all the reasons he first loved him. His beauty, his goodness, his generous heart. He thought of Fingon singing across the Ice, watching his people die because the one he loved betrayed him, and he couldn’t help himself.

“How can you love him?” he asked, and Fingon’s eyes flickered open.

“After all he did to you – to us – ” Gelmir broke off, his hand coming to rest on the curve of Fingon’s hip. “How can you love him? How could you want to risk your life for him?”

There was a dangerous light in Fingon’s eyes, but his voice was mild as he moved away from Gelmir’s hands and said, “I will not speak of that. Not here. Not to you.”

“I am sorry,” said Gelmir, “I just – ”

But Fingon turned away then, and said, “I think you should go now, Gelmir.” It was a gentle dismissal, but a dismissal nonetheless, and Gelmir ached all the way back to his quarters.

-

He thought Fingolfin’s death was the worst that could happen, but he quickly realized he was wrong. The worst, as Fingolfin’s people grieved their king and Fingon assumed the throne with new purpose in his eyes, was when the eldest sons of Fëanor come from the east. Gelmir watched them with hatred, wondering what Fingon saw in the tall, grim figure with the blood-red hair.

 _You are unworthy of him_ , he thought, bitterly, and some of the force of his thoughts must have been evident on his face, because Maedhros’ steel grey eyes alit on him curiously as he passed.

He wondered if Maedhros suspected their affair, if he was jealous, even, but then he caught the almost pitying expression on those carved features, and he turned away, face burning.

Maedhros knew, well enough, but Gelmir was far too small and insignificant to be considered a threat.

And when he saw the look of pure joy and affection that Fingon cast at his cousin when Maedhros and Maglor officially pledged their allegiance to the new High King in court, Gelmir knew that there was nothing he could do in the face of that love.

Whenever Maedhros was around, the king belonged to none but him.

- 

Gelmir knew that when Maedhros visited, the servants whispered that his bed was never slept in, and the king turned them away from his chambers. And Gelmir, most of all, knew better than to come near.

But there were times he couldn’t bear to stay away.

Fingon had dismissed the guard from his door, as usual, and given orders to be left well alone by servants and soldiers alike. But Gelmir’s treacherous feet dragged him up the stairs early one morning – he wished to watch the sunrise from the eastern battlement, he told himself, knowing it was a lie. And then he couldn’t help himself when he glanced down the corridor and noticed a flash of gold as the king passed through the door to his room, the door not closing all the way behind him.

Heart beating fast, Gelmir crept down the hall and pressed himself to the wall by the door. Voices carried easily through the crack.

“Food!” the king was saying cheerfully. “Nabbed from the kitchens, so we won’t be interrupted by servants with trays.”

A low voice answered, clearly amused. “Some things never change. Still nicking food from the larder.”

“It’s not stealing if it’s from my own kitchens,” said Fingon, blithely. “And anyway, I brought you your favorite.”

“Blackberries.” The other voice was appreciative. “You are too good to your guests, your highness.”

“Don’t tease, Maitimo.”

“Oh, but I am not. You are too good to me, Finno. As ever.”

“Yes, well,” Fingon’s voice was a little breathless, “You do – ai, mind the jam – make it worth my while.”

“Your people don’t think so. The looks on their faces when they see me – ” There was a dark humor in Maedhros’ voice. “ – I do not think they fancy their king in bed with a kinslayer.”

“Then I shall just remind them that my hands are not clean of that either,” said Fingon, shortly. “And it is none of their business who I take to my bed.”

“Hmm. And is it _my_ business who you take to your bed?” Maedhros’ voice was very low now, no more than a murmur. “None of your people regard me with more hatred than that guard of yours.”

“Gelmir?”

Gelmir straightened up in the hall, heart thumping wildly. He knew he should leave, but he couldn’t pull himself away.

Fingon’s voice was soft. “He’s a good lad.”

“He is quite in love with you, Finno.”

There was a pause, and then Fingon said, “I know.” Gelmir closed his eyes, wrecked.

Fingon went on, “I wish – ”

“What do you wish?”

“That things could be different for him. He deserves more than what I can give him.”

“And just how much do you give him?”

Fingon didn’t answer right away. “Do you really mind so, Maitimo?”

Another pause. “I understand it,” said Maedhros at last. “In some ways, I have been surprised you did not take a lover sooner, one to whom you could give your heart as well as your body. A wife, even.”

“Do not be such a fool,” said Fingon. “A wife? You are as mad as they all claim. And you are ten times more foolish, and insane as well, if you think I could give my heart to anyone but you. It is entirely yours, Maitimo. You know that.”

“I shall endeavor to be worthy of it,” said Maedhros, quietly. “And what of your body?”

“My body?” said Fingon, somewhat indistinctly. “Well, that – ai, Maitimo – no, don’t stop – perhaps I share it a little more liberally than my heart.”

“I can accept that,” said Maedhros, and Fingon gasped, “Oh – right there.”

“I can accept that,” Maedhros repeated, “though I have never been particularly good at sharing.”

“You don’t say,” said Fingon, and there was a hint of laughter in his voice, even as he held back a moan. “Can that be a family trait?”

“Hush,” growled Maedhros, and Fingon laughed once, brilliantly, before Gelmir slipped away.

-

He left for Nargothrond, where his brother was stationed, that very night. But he never stopped loving his king, not until the very end, when he saw Fingon one last time, across a bloody battlefield.

And he understood what it meant to be willing to die for love.


End file.
